Grimm Reflections
by The Black Sluggard
Summary: A close call on the job exposes a hidden world that has always existed just out of sight―and leaves Kevin Ryan viewing the people closest to him in a whole new light... Sequel to "Until Lambs Become Lions". Slash, Ryan/Esposito. WIP
1. Chapter One: The Lion

_ Author's Note: Follows the fic "Until Lambs Become Lions".  
_

_The versions of this story posted to AO3 and LiveJournal have been enhanced with images, so I highly recommend reading there._

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**Chapter One: The Lion**

Kevin Ryan had been having some very strange dreams lately.

Not that it didn't make sense that he would have a few—he had _died_, after all. Well, a bit. Estimates were shaky, but based on the time between the call and their arrival the EMTs thought his heart might have stopped beating for as long as two and a half minutes before they had finally managed to resuscitate him. That was more than enough to count, in Kevin's book. Not that his near-death experience was something he was going to flaunt in front of Javier—it wasn't something he thought his partner would appreciate—though he was almost certain to get some mileage out of it with Castle.

Yet, oddly, the first dream hadn't occurred while Kevin was unconscious, but in the ambulance at the scene.

In fact, Kevin was sure he hadn't yet fallen asleep when it did—that happened sometimes, didn't it, people dreaming while they were still somewhat awake? It must, because the whole thing had been pretty vivid, and remarkably linear, and Kevin almost wouldn't have thought it was a dream at all, except...

Well, it had happened like this:

Kevin had been lying in the back of the ambulance waiting for the EMTs to drive him off to the hospital. One of them had been reassuring Kevin that the fact that he was already awake and talking was a very good sign, but that they were still concerned about the head injury that had knocked him unconscious in the first place, resulting in his tumble into a nearby river. They would likely have to take a few scans to make sure the damage wasn't serious. From the back of the ambulance, Kevin could see his partner where Javier had been arguing with the other EMT. If breathing had hurt just a bit less at that point, Kevin could have told Javier that it was pointless—they were _not_ going to let him ride along, no matter how loudly he insisted. Not that Kevin thought that his saying so would have convinced _Javier_ either.

And all of that had sucked supremely, but up until that point it had still been fairly normal.

The part that had made Kevin so sure it was a dream had happened right after that. The second EMT had shaken his head, clearly convinced that the discussion was over, and Javier had– He had sort of..._changed_. One moment it had been his partner standing there, and the next—well, it had still been his partner standing there. Sort of.

Only...his partner was suddenly a _lion_.

Kevin had realized pretty quickly that he was dreaming at that point, but he had still let out a shocked noise, almost inaudible behind the mask over his nose. Javier could be intimidating enough under normal circumstances, but adding fangs to the equation made the whole effect kind of intense. And Kevin had to admire the balls on that EMT, because the man hadn't even flinched. Still, as he studied Javier's new face—admittedly, a touch muzzily—Kevin had thought, oddly enough, that the look seemed to suit him.

At any rate, the strange impression had lasted for only a few seconds before it faded, leaving his partner just as he had been before.

As much as Kevin might have wanted some real sleep after that, it hadn't been in his cards. While very impressed with his being awake and coherent, the EMTs had very much wanted him to stay that way if at all possible. As tired as he had felt it hadn't been easy, but Kevin had done his best. At the hospital his continuing alertness had been encouraging, and Kevin had been fortunate—almost miraculously so—to come away from resuscitation without a single broken rib. But they had still wanted him to stay for testing and observation, just to be sure.

Once he had finally been allowed to sleep, however, the nightmares had begun. And, though formless and vague, they had carried just enough intensity that the memory of his earlier fantasy had quickly been driven from his mind.

Fortunately, the doctors had been happy enough with his condition to send him home forty-eight hours later.

And it wasn't until a few days after his release that Kevin even remembered that first dream. He had spent most of that time at home taking it easy, mindful of Kate's threats regarding what she would do to him if he didn't. Kevin had rolled his eyes, but hadn't bothered to argue. Javier hadn't said a word either, merely smirking at him to cover his own concern—as if _he_ wouldn't have been just as stubborn. Fortunately, by the end of the first week most of the stubborn aches and dragging exhaustion of his ordeal had worn off. Bored and restless, that week had been the upper limit that Kevin was willing to wait.

At any rate, their suspect had escaped after Kevin's inconvenient dunk in the river, which had set them back on their case. And the _last_ thing he wanted was to leave Beckett and Javier playing catch-up without him...

In the end, it had taken them most of the day to find a lead on their suspect's whereabouts. That lead took the form of a petty thief by the name of William Dane who had shared a cell with their murderer a few years back. It had taken the rest of the day to track _him_ down as well. And if Kevin had been concerned—just a _little_—that he might not yet be up to par, those doubts were quickly laid to rest in the resulting chase. Having a lead take off on you was never ideal, but all things considered, Kevin was glad to be back on the job.

Really, it was only after they caught the guy that everything started going rapidly downhill.

As Javier wrestled the man up against the wall for a frisk, a low hiss drew Kevin's attention. And Kevin watched in horror as Dane's features twisted, forming into an impossible reptilian visage. Soon, his expression of frustrated anger was gone, replaced upon a scaled, flat-nosed face by a gaping, sharp-toothed grin. Kevin took a quick step back, reaching for his gun. Though, fortunately, he managed to stop himself before he pulled the trigger...

Because he knew that what he was seeing couldn't possibly be _real_.

He must have made a noise of some kind, because both the criminal and Javier turned to look at him. Following Kevin's horrified stare to the monster he held pinned in front of him, Javier's eyes widened very briefly. Still, Kevin was sure his partner wasn't seeing the same thing he was, because the expression of alarm was very short-lived. For just a moment Kevin thought he saw concern, but that too was soon gone from Javier's face entirely. Yet the creature's mouth hung open, and its bulging eyes stared back at Kevin with what might have been an almost equal terror to his own—an assessment that was apparently born out as the vision melted, leaving Dane appearing human once again.

"Oh, God, is he–"

The fearful words cut off abruptly as Javier shoved hard at the man, whatever he had been about to say lost as he was forced against the rough brick wall.

"He's fine," Javier ground out harshly, pulling Dane's arms behind his back as he brought out his cuffs. "Get in the car. Open your mouth again and I'll _give_ you a problem."

And there was an audible warning in Javier's voice, an unmistakable threat of violence that struck Kevin as startlingly out of character. Something about it, even more than his earlier fear, left Kevin feeling off-balance and shaken.

Not a single word was spoken as they bundled Dane into the back of the car. As Kevin climbed into the passenger seat beside his partner, the air within the vehicle felt charged with a tension that was almost electric. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, Kevin caught a very brief look at the man they had just arrested. Dane's face was pale, and his body-language practically vibrated with nervous anxiety. And when he noticed Kevin's eyes upon him Dane ducked his head down, like he was trying to make himself small and stay out of sight. It wasn't just the caution or distrust that many people felt around cops, Kevin realized, but pure, naked _terror_, and seeing it directed at himself was almost painfully surreal.

Yet even more startling than the criminal's barely concealed fear was the strange, still tension that had stolen over his partner.

At first, Kevin almost read the tautness in Javier's posture as anger, but he was swift to realize his mistake. Not that it was a difficult one to make, because Kevin realized that what he was really seeing wasn't anger at all but _restraint_—similar to what he was used to seeing when Javier held his often volatile temper in check. Yet there was an odd, desperate energy to the control Javier was exerting upon himself. While on the surface his partner appeared calm, if distracted, there was an edge to everything—the set of his shoulders, the sharpness of his breathing, and the way that, save for a rare, cautious glance, Javier seemed reluctant to even look at him—that gave that lie away. To _Kevin_, at least. Though, despite his years of experience in reading his partner, Kevin almost wanted to believe himself mistaken...

Weighing Javier's behavior against that of their criminal, Kevin's instincts kept insisting that his partner was hiding something closely akin to _panic_.

That hurt him more than a little, but Kevin had to remind himself it probably made sense. After all, looking at it from the outside, what Javier and Dane had both seen—what, he forced himself to acknowledge, had actually, objectively happened—was that Kevin had drawn his weapon on a restrained man without provocation.

And, in a very real way, that on it's own was more terrifying than any monster could ever be.

The drive back to the station was deathly silent. Kevin found himself wrestling with the idea the entire way. Once they arrived, Kevin left his partner to deal with processing Dane while he stepped away to clear his head.

In his mind, Kevin thought back over what had happened—or at least what he _thought_ he had seen. He was desperate to find some explanation for it that made any kind of sense. Unfortunately, the vision had been too vivid, too sharp and solid for him to easily dismiss as something harmless, like a trick of the light.

And, after eliminating the impossible as the old saying went, none of the options that remained to him were at all encouraging.

He was at a loss as to what he should do. After all, a single, odd occurrence didn't necessarily indicate the start of a pattern. As vivid and terrifying as it had been, a single hallucination did not—not _necessarily—_mean that he was losing his mind. In spite of what he had _thought_ he was seeing, he had been fully aware that it wasn't possible. And he had, Kevin reminded himself, still been lucid enough to stop himself from doing anything...rash. On the other hand, casting doubts on his own sanity when it might, honestly, be nothing could easily put his career in jeopardy.

In the end he decided it might be best to pretend nothing had happened—at least for now—and hope that the incident would remain isolated. Bearing in mind his recent head trauma—and wasn't _that_ just a comforting thought—Kevin could hope that any transient effects would quietly pass.

To be honest, Kevin thought, he was probably doing more damage to his own mental health just from over-thinking it.

More settled once he had determined to shove his—admittedly _valid_—concerns to the back of his mind, Kevin headed back toward the bullpen. As distracted as he was, he almost didn't notice the movement at the corner of his eye. If he hadn't, Kevin would have missed the sight of his partner and Richard Castle disappearing down the hallway together.

Perhaps it was his already troubled state of mind, but it struck him as suspect almost immediately. If it had been Kate, Kevin would have never given it a second thought—his partner choosing to share a discreet word with her about what had happened today was almost to be expected. But _Castle_...Kevin couldn't reason that one out. Though the affair surrounding Montgomery's death had proven that the writer was capable of keeping secrets, if his and Javier's roles had been reversed, Kevin couldn't imagine himself discussing the incident with Castle. Not until he knew something for sure.

It was never really a conscious decision for him to follow.

Kevin caught up with them a few turns down the hall, in an out of the way corridor that didn't see much traffic. Rounding the corner carefully—quietly, though it didn't quite register that he was sneaking—Kevin saw his partner first. Javier was pacing the way he sometimes did when he was feeling frustrated and overwhelmed. Castle watched him with an expression of curiosity mixed with concern. Yet there was also something oddly anxious about it, Kevin thought, as though Javier's behavior was making the writer unusually wary. Perhaps that was understandable, but Kevin had learned a long time ago to see through that aggressive front.

No. It was plain to Kevin that his partner was scared—and feeling just a little helpless.

"Okay, seriously, what the hell happened?" Castle asked, breaking the tense silence and bringing Javier's restless steps to a halt. "I haven't seen you two spooked like this since Kate was in the hospital, so _spill_."

Javier ran a hand over his mouth, seeming to take a moment to form his answer. Kevin's chest tightened in anticipation, dreading a little what Javier might have to say.

Though whatever Kevin might have expected to hear about the incident, what his partner said wasn't it.

"I think Kevin might be a Grimm," Javier said, tentatively, looking the writer in the eye with a note of challenge, almost as if expecting ridicule.

The words meant nothing to Kevin. Castle seemed confused by them as well.

"He– Wait, _what_?" Castle asked, eyes widening in surprise.

Though it was not, Kevin thought, the same kind of confusion or surprise. Shock and disbelief would each have been better words. Javier met each with a short, dazed sort of nod.

"Apparently Jenny found a few in his family tree," Javier said, his voice stunned and empty, like he just didn't know what to do.

"Wait, _wait_," Castle said, holding up his hands as he tried to process...whatever the hell they were talking about. "Is that why she–"

And pain struck him at this mention of his ex-wife, so utterly unexpected in this whole thing, but as much as Kevin might have wanted to hear how she was involved, Castle stopped himself almost immediately, shaking his head.

"No, see, what you're saying doesn't make any sense," Castle argued. "If he _was_ we would have noticed—_he_ would have noticed. Someone would have noticed..._something_."

"That's what I told her, Castle, but..." Javier trailed off, shaking his head. "I think he saw that _skalengeck_ we arrested today–"

He stopped, hesitating with a slow breath.

"No," Javier insisted, slowly, shaking his head. "No...from the way both of them were acting, I _know_ he did."

Both of them fell quiet for a moment, tension filling the space their words had abandoned, and during that moment Kevin stood frozen, hearing his heart pound frantically in his chest. It was like a whole new dimension of weird on top of the weirdness he was already dealing with. Only...if this conversation was actually taking place, then the possibility existed that Kevin wasn't crazy—that he _wasn't _just seeing things—and _that_ was potentially far more terrifying.

"Look, even if he is a–" Castle didn't seem to want to repeat the word. "Even if he _is_, it...it doesn't change anything. Does it?"

Yet the tension that had crept into the writer's shoulders said something significantly otherwise.

At his words Javier turned suddenly, glaring at Castle, and a low noise issued from his throat. His partner's careful control released itself, his pent-up energy flowing out from where it was stored inside. It was a sight that Kevin had witnessed several times since the two of them had become partners and friends, but this time it was _very_ different. As he watched, Kevin saw Javier's features ripple, _shifting_ just like Dane's. Only rather than the lizard-like creature they had arrested earlier today, Javier's face had a more bestial aspect, and his close-cropped hair was replaced with a dark, shaggy mane that nearly reached his shoulders.

And Kevin's breath caught, because it was the same face—the _lion_—that Kevin had seen more than a week ago from the back of an ambulance.

"It changes _everything_, Castle," Javier bit out as he advanced on the writer, a rumble working its way into his voice that was nearly a growl.

Castle put his hands up defensively, clearly nervous at the display—though by no means as afraid as Kevin thought _he_ would have been in the writer's place.

"Hey, hey, easy. _Temper_, Javi," Castle said, his voice trying—but failing—to be soothing. "It's going to be okay. I just mean– He's still _Kevin_, right? We just have to watch ourselves around him. It'll be–"

Only that was when the writer stiffened, his words cutting off as he lifted his nose, sniffing the air like a dog—and then Castle had turned, suddenly, staring right at Kevin.

"Oh...sugar," Castle swore softly.

Javier's eyes had followed his, and now they both were looking at Kevin. Javier's face melted back to normal, and Kevin found himself greeted by an expression of sheer horror. And Kevin's mouth was hanging open, but he couldn't seem to say anything. He couldn't think—he could barely even _breathe_.

"Kev–"

And as his partner said his name, taking a hesitant step toward him, Kevin did the only thing that made any sense.

He ran.


	2. Chapter Two: The Lamb

_The versions of this story posted at AO3 and LiveJournal have been enhanced with images, so I highly recommend reading there._

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**Chapter Two: The Lamb**

Once Kevin reached his car, he wound up driving blind for—God, he didn't even know how long. His thoughts were too confused, too frantic to even consider having a destination in mind. But he couldn't go back to the station, he knew that for sure, and his own apartment was likewise out of the question. Javier and Castle both knew where he lived. Jesus, Javier even had his spare _key_–

_Javier_.

Finding a handhold for his thoughts, Kevin finally took the time to find a parking space and pull over. He knew he should be trying to think about this rationally, but it was hard not to feel like rationality itself had long gone out the window. It had been frightening enough to watch their suspect turn into a monster before his eyes, but witnessing the same monstrosity emerge in Javier had all but broken his reason. Though, as he took the time to examine the storm of confusion disrupting his thoughts, Kevin soon realized that the primary emotion behind his horror wasn't simply fear alone...

It was _betrayal_.

Perhaps Kevin couldn't trust what his eyes had seen, but he _had_ to trust his ears—if both of those senses were lying to him, then Lord help him. And though the full meaning behind their discussion still eluded him, the conversation itself had been too coherent for him to discount out of hand as the product of madness–

He almost wished that he could.

Whether the strange visions he was seeing were real or not, the fact remained that his partner—his _best friend_—was keeping secrets from him, and had been for God only knew how long. And that fact filled him with a more penetrating dread than nightmare monsters or even the threat of insanity ever could. Before today, Kevin would never have doubted that he could trust Javier with his life—he did so every day. Now Kevin felt as if he hardly knew the man at all, and the sudden loss of faith in that friendship was like a gaping hole that left him feeling ill, his stomach pinched and aching.

The night Jenny had come to him seeking an end to their marriage had been, without a doubt, the most baffling, most unexpected, most disorienting event in his life. Yet, while the divorce had come as a total shock, he couldn't quite say it had come without warning. Though he still didn't understand why, Kevin could recognize that in the final months of their marriage he had seen a dramatic shift in Jenny's behavior. She had become quiet, withdrawn, anxious, and had seemed only to grow more so over time. There had been times when she had seemed reluctant to look him in the eye. It had been distressing, but he hadn't seen any cause for it, and had been at a loss for what to do.

By the end of their time together she had been living like a shadow in their own home.

He didn't _understand_ it, but Kevin knew that, for some reason he couldn't begin to fathom, his own wife had become afraid of him. His confusion, in company with his grief, had very nearly ruined him. Though he had since tried to move on, that confusion—his frustration at never knowing _why—_had become a lingering pain, like a wound that just wouldn't close. Now, he also knew that Javier had been keeping secrets, and if Castle was to be believed at least one of those might hold the answer to that unanswered question. And the thought that Javier could have kept knowledge like that from him—knowing, as his partner surely _must_ _have _known, just how deeply the question had haunted him—hurt more than Kevin would ever have thought possible.

And now Kevin found that beneath that hurt burned a stunned and humiliated _rage_, so fierce that it left him shaking.

Kevin took a deep, slow breath to calm himself and to ease the knot in his gut. He let his forehead fall against the cool glass of the window, staring blankly at the darkening sky. And Kevin realized, rather distantly at first, that he actually wasn't very far from Jenny's apartment. He hesitated at the thought. Her fear and desperation at the end of their marriage had left such an impression on him that he had been loath to come anywhere near her—he hated the thought of seeing that fear in her eyes once again. He had gone so far as to promise that he would stay away. But with his own fear and his own desperation breathing down his neck, Kevin thought he might be forced to break that promise.

Whatever was going on Jenny was apparently a part of it, and approaching her might just be the safest way for Kevin to find his answers.

The frightening events of the day notwithstanding, Kevin found himself confronted by a very special kind of terror as he stood before the door to her apartment. Though it felt to him like ages, not so very long ago it had been _their_ apartment. They had moved in only weeks before their wedding, each looking forward to spending the rest of their lives together. A lifetime of coming home to her smile...

Now, Kevin was an intruding stranger here—unwanted and unwelcome—hesitant to even knock on her door.

It took a great deal of time for him to gather the courage to knock—more, he thought, than he could probably afford. Even once he had, Kevin found himself fighting the urge to go before she could answer. If he left now, she would never even know he had been here...

Then Kevin heard a soft sound, and though the door didn't open, he knew it was too late.

"Jenny..." His voice sounded too loud to him, though Kevin knew that it probably wasn't—just loud enough to be heard through the door. "Jenny, listen, I know I said I'd never bother you again, but I really need your help."

Several moments passed in silence, and Kevin felt a growing certainty that she wasn't going to answer. Then, just as he was about to give up he heard the chain rattle on the other side. The door opened a narrow crack, revealing Jenny's face—nervousness just as plainly visible in her expression as the effort it took her to keep it in check.

"Kevin?" And a cruel part of him saw fit to feel relief at the real concern in her voice. "What's wrong?"

Kevin struggled briefly with the question. He had no idea what he should say. He was flying blind with only a few overheard words to guide him. If he had somehow misunderstood, then at best he would come across as a lunatic–

At worst, there was still the nagging possibility that was what he actually was.

"Something's...happening," Kevin finally managed, haltingly. "I don't know what's going on, but Javier–"

He hesitated, wetting his lips.

"There's something wrong with Javier," Kevin said finally, watching carefully for her response. "Or with me. I'm not...I'm not really sure. But I don't know if I can trust him, Jenn, and I didn't have anywhere else to go."

Jenny listened with sad, quiet sympathy, though Kevin also saw the tension already stringing her body draw taut. He watched her swallow dryly, and her fingers knot in the fabric of her skirt.

"When you say there's something _wrong–_" Jenny began, though she stopped herself abruptly.

Kevin couldn't quite manage to look her in the eye at the unfinished question. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to answer.

"I've... I've been _seeing_ things, Jenny," he said. "I don't know what to do. I... I'm afraid I might be going crazy...but I'm almost more afraid that I'm _not_."

"Seeing–" Her eyes widened a little and he heard her breath catch. "Kevin, _what_ are you seeing? Are you–"

As she spoke, Kevin could both see and hear it as her nervousness turned into outright fear and when it did he saw– Kevin took a startled step back. The door slammed quickly shut, though not quickly enough to spare him the sight of suddenly alien features—of strange, long ears and hands like the hooves of an animal—or the consuming _terror_ which had stared back at him from inhuman eyes.

On the other side of the door, he heard Jenny sob.

"_Go_, Kevin, _please_," she begged him. "I can't help you. I wish I _could..._"

Steeling himself, Kevin stepped back toward the door. He braced a hand against it, the wood feeling solid and real under his palm—a mocking detail when everything _else_ felt like a nightmare. Frustrated, terrified, he closed his eyes, resting his head against the door.

"Please, Jenny..." he managed wearily. "I don't _understand_. I just... I need _answers_."

And silence held for a very long time, soft, almost indiscernible noises on the other side of the door the only proof that she had yet to abandoned him completely. Finally he heard a shaky breath. Her voice was unsteady as she spoke.

"I've...I've heard rumors from a cousin of mine," she said, hesitantly, uncertain. "About a man living in Portland. He's a cop...and he's like you. I don't know much, but it might be enough to help you find him. Maybe if you go to him he can help you."

**. o . O . o .**

"_Damn it_, Jenny, what in hell were you thinking?"

Javier felt Castle flinch in the passenger seat beside him as he spoke into the phone. After their initial panic, he and the writer had finally chosen to stake out Kevin's apartment—_obviously_ he would have to come back sooner or later. And they had been waiting for nearly an hour—which was much, _much_ longer than Javier ever wanted to spend cooped up in a car with Castle, and he hoped he never would again—before Jenny had called to tell him the news. The bad news. The _very_ bad news. Though he kept control of himself for the most part, Javier was angry enough that he failed to hold back the growl from entering his voice. And he was certainly too angry to truly care. On the other end of the phone, Jenny let out a startled noise, though to her credit she rallied herself quickly.

"_There are things he has to know, Javier,_" Jenny said, defending her decision. "_It isn't safe for him here until he knows them, but he doesn't trust any of us right now. He was scared, and he needed answers–_"

"Because _you_ were too scared to give him any," Javier interrupted angrily. "I could have handled this, Jenny. I was just waiting for him to calm down."

"_He wasn't going to calm down,_" Jenny said. "_You didn't see him, how terrified he was—how _desperate_. Listen to me, Javier. This is the best thing for him. What I've heard about the Grimm in Portland... He's–_"

Javier hung up the phone, running a hand over his face.

"Goddamned panicky prey animal bullshit..." he muttered, tossing his phone on the dash.

The sentiment wasn't precisely fair, and Javier knew he would feel bad for it later, but from the way things were looking, later promised to be a long time in coming.

It wasn't as if Javier didn't know what she was talking about. Javier remembered Jenny telling him about those rumors before. _Seelenguter_, like many social _wesen_, often shared information between their communities. Their information networks, though not organized on the scale of _mellifer_, were still impressive, and they were probably second only to _eisbibers_ when it came to disseminating gossip. Before things had fallen apart, Javier had often felt somewhat honored when she chose to share those things with him. He had recognized it as a subtle gesture on her part, demonstrating that, through Kevin, she had come to consider Javier not just a friend, but a part of her herd. But those days had ended when she had abandoned his partner, and even before Javier had never considered the information truly reliable.

Some of what had come out of Portland in particular was difficult to believe, to say the least...

The fact that Jenny had sent Kevin across the country based on those rumors angered Javier anew, but he knew that horse had already escaped the barn so to speak. And since _this_ particular horse was still refusing to answer his goddamned phone, there was nothing Javier could do but try to follow.

He sat back and took a deep, calming breath. Then he turned to look at Castle, who was staring at him expectantly. Javier could feel a headache starting to form between his eyes. He was thinking of naming it after his partner.

"He got to Jenny before I could reach him," Javier explained wearily. "_Please_ tell me you have contacts in Portland."

Castle's mouth opened, but his words hung for a second, his answer aborted as he stopped to think. He closed his mouth abruptly with a quick blink, eyebrows raising thoughtfully.

"You know," Castle said slowly, "I think I actually might..."


	3. Chapter Three: The Shepherd

**Chapter Three: The Shepherd**

"Something strange is going to happen today."

Nick Burkhardt looked up from his desk, raising an eyebrow. He hadn't noticed Sgt. Wu's approach, and he was honestly regretting it just a little. Some days, it required a little extra preparation to deal with the other officer—primarily when that man was bored.

"What?" Nick asked.

Because he knew from painful experience that, in the long run, it would probably be better for everyone involved if he simply took the bait.

"Oh, yeah," Wu continued, "it's been real quiet."

The sergeant paused meaningfully.

"_Too_ quiet."

Beside him, Nick heard Hank stifle a snort.

"You go ahead and laugh," Wu said blandly, "but my bizarro-sense is tingling. Mark my words, gentlemen, _something_ is going to happen today. And when it does, _I_ will be fully justified in saying the customary 'I-told-you-so'."

"Uh-huh," Hank said.

His skepticism was tinged with affection, however, and Wu all but preened under the attention. That was one of the weirder things about Wu, Nick had always thought—not only did the man seem to thrive upon pretending he was under-appreciated, he seemed to genuinely enjoy it when others chose to play along. And quite honestly, given all the drama and terror the sergeant had been subjected to in recent months, it felt damned good to see him in high spirits once again.

Though if Wu's spirits got any _higher_, Nick thought, he should probably start to worry...

"Anyway, Burkhardt, you've got a visitor," Wu said, giving a nod down the hallway. "He's NYPD. Says he needs to consult with you on a case back home."

Nick turned in his chair to follow Wu's gaze. He found the man easily enough. He was of about average height with blue eyes and light brown hair. He was wearing a grey three-piece suit that, while once fairly nice, appeared somewhat worse for a few day's wear. Most of all, what stood out to Nick was the way the man watched them—intent, with a focus that felt almost desperate—and the nervousness apparent in every motion he made.

"NYPD?" Hank said, sounding understandably confused. "That's a long way from home. Couldn't he just call or something?"

"I don't make the news, I just report it," Wu said.

"Alright, we'll take care of it. Thanks," Nick said.

"Of course," Wu said, breezily. "Anyway, when that inevitable something does happen, there are various alternatives to the classic 'I-told-you-so'. In fact, I have it on very good authority that there is a bakery on 8th Avenue in Manhattan whose Red Velvet Twinkies are amazing. Maybe your new pal can help make that happen, hm?"

Hank shot back with something, but Nick ignored both of them, focusing on the newcomer as he waved the man in. The man gave an almost startled flinch at the gesture, hesitating briefly before making his approach with visible determination. By then, Nick saw, Wu had successfully been shooed away by his partner.

Up close, Nick's diagnosis of nervousness and desperation appeared to have been painfully accurate. Though he had seemed eager to close the distance, once he reached their desks he had become rather more reluctant, hesitating even in making his introduction.

"I– My name's Kevin Ryan," he said. Reaching slowly into his jacket he pulled out his badge and his identification. "I'm a detective with the 12th precinct in Manhattan. I'm looking for a Detective Burkhardt?"

Nick looked over the ID quickly but carefully. Finding no obvious flaws, he nodded.

"I'm Nick Burkhardt," he said, offering his hand before tossing a nod Hank's way. "This is my partner, Detective Griffin. Sergeant Wu said you needed our cooperation on a case? Must have been important to bring you all the way across the country."

Detective Ryan shook hands with both of them readily enough, but Nick saw the man wince faintly at his words. The reaction was barely noticeable, but it was there.

"Yeah, um, sorry about that," Ryan said nervously, and the apology in his tone sounded genuine. "It's...not a case, exactly. I guess it's really more of a personal problem."

Ryan hesitated, looking over Nick and his partner carefully. He seemed somewhat wary of Hank's presence, and for a moment Nick thought the man might ask to speak to him in private. As that moment ticked past, however, Ryan seemed to abandon his reticence with what Nick could only imagine was some kind of embarrassed mental shove, releasing a weary breath.

"Look," Ryan began very slowly, looking Nick carefully in the eye, "I know this is going to sound totally random and crazy, but I kind of need to know... Just what the hell is a 'Grimm'?"

**. o . O . o .**

Asking his question at the station had yielded an immediate, strong reaction from both Burkhardt and his partner. In spite of the unease they both had displayed, Kevin had been almost overjoyed—it had been an unfortunate but very welcome confirmation that he was _finally_ on the right track. And, thankfully, that brief moment of validation had given him the courage he needed to move forward in explaining his situation. He had told them about the things he was seeing, though he kept several details close to his chest. He had alluded to the identities of a few as people he trusted, but he had very carefully avoided identifying Jenny or Javier, either by name or by their relationship to him.

Though they each seemed to express some healthy degree of skepticism about some of Kevin's claims, the reality of the creatures he had seen was never in question. And though they had seemed reluctant to trust him Kevin would gladly take whatever he was given, because neither had they thought he was insane. While it had only served to ease a fraction of his overall anxiety, seeing their acceptance of that part of his story—their _belief—_had at last set some of his worst fears to rest.

The remainder of the conversation had not taken place out in the open, in the middle of their station—and even their anxiety on that front was somewhat comforting. Plainly, the secrets he had stumbled across were very closely guarded. That knowledge had helped him feel just a little better concerning the involvement of people to whom he had extended so much of his trust. Their betrayal still hurt, but as strange as it was to imagine Jenny and his partner as members of some sort of otherworldly conspiracy, somehow it was infinitely preferable to feeling like their bizarre secrets had been kept only from him.

Instead Burkhardt had asked his partner to drive Kevin back to the hotel room he had so hastily booked and wait there. Detective Griffin apparently understood what Burkhardt had planned, because he readily agreed.

"And maybe you should go ahead and give him 'the Talk'," Burkhardt had said on the way out the door, flashing a smile at his partner.

"What? Why _me_?"

"Because you're _normal_," Burkhardt had told him. "You don't have a stake in this like the rest of us. That gives you a cleaner perspective."

Though Detective Griffin seemed less than convinced.

The drive was quiet at first, Griffin watching him with an expression that was almost _painfully_ sympathetic. On Kevin's end, that silence had grown steadily more anxious and uncomfortable with each second that passed.

"You know, I really don't envy you," Griffin offered finally. "This stuff still freaks me out sometimes, even without seeing them as often as Nick does."

"Them?" Kevin asked, though it was less a proper question than it was a gentle request for more.

"The creatures," Griffin said. "_Wesen_."

Kevin repeated the word quietly, testing it out on his own lips.

And for the remained or the drive, and the time spent after that waiting for his partner's arrival, Detective Griffin—_Hank_, he insisted—talked about his own run-ins with creatures of the kind Kevin had seen. How, for him, it had started first with a number of bizarre cases that just hadn't felt right—immolation, organ theft, corpses devoured by rats. He talked about shooting a man that hadn't been a man at the time he had fired, about the unnaturally strong criminal that had come after him seeking revenge, and about his sudden, unhealthy obsession with a woman named Adalind. All of these, Hank had only learned much later, had been instigated by _wesen_—the creatures Kevin was now seeing.

And, in the latter case, his strange behavior had been the result of an honest-to-God _witch_ who had used him as a means to attack his partner, the Grimm.

"See, normal people usually can't see them," Hank told him, "not unless they _want_ to be seen, and usually that's only if they don't intend to leave you alive. But people like you and Nick, you guys can see them when they let their guard down. You're...I don't know, special somehow. You guys can see them when most people can't. And I guess traditionally that sort of makes you the police of their world..."

He paused for a moment, frowning.

"And sometimes judge and executioner," he added, shaking his head. "I mean, Nick and I follow the rules and solve our problems with the badge whenever we can, but due process kind of goes out the window with some of the things we've seen. I never could have imagined keeping the kind of secrets I do now, on or off the job. But people would think I was crazy if I didn't..."

Hank must have seen Kevin's unease with this information.

"They're not all bad news, though," he offered quickly. "I've got a good buddy of mine—a man I've known since high school—who I only found out recently was a part of this. Jarold and his kid—my goddaughter—they're both good people, and I'd go to hell and back for either one of them. That hasn't changed one bit."

Kevin sat quietly for a moment, digesting fitfully before he released a tense breath, shaking his head.

"Why me?" he asked. "Why now? I've known– I've known these people for years and never suspected anything. Why am I seeing this _now_?"

Hank shook his head.

"From the way Nick explained it to me, it runs in families," he said, "but I don't know much more than that. His mom and his aunt were both Grimms. He started seeing _wesen_ just before his aunt died of cancer. I never really knew whether those events were actually related—I don't know if Nick knows for sure, either."

While it lined up fairly well with what he had overheard from Castle, Kevin wasn't sure what to think of it. He had a hard time believing there was anything supernatural or special about himself...but as he listened to Hank's account, Kevin could certainly appreciate the wisdom in Nick's decision to leave the explanation to him. Because Hank didn't claim to be anything but a regular guy, yet it was obvious that he had found some way to accommodate all this craziness into his life.

And whatever Kevin might be—whatever Nick was, whatever being a Grimm actually _meant_—if handling all this was something that could be learned then, special or not, maybe he wasn't in as far over his head as he thought.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **In the original outline, Hank didn't have his own chapter. In fact, he hardly had more than that opening exchange with Wu. But somehow this wound up becoming his chapter, and he even stole about half of Nick's scene in the next one.  
_

_Because Hank is just that awesome._


	4. Chapter Four: The Huntsman

**Chapter Four: The Huntsman**

As Kevin looked down at the drawing in the book being slid his way, it was impossible for him to hold back a shudder.

When Detective Burkhardt rejoined them in Kevin's hotel room, he had brought what looked like half of a very old—and very musty—library along with him. These books, it was explained, were journals kept by Nick's ancestors. Grimms like himself—including Jacob and Wilhelm, the well-known Brothers Grimm, whose family had become the namesake of those like them—they had been documenting their encounters with the creatures known as _wesen_ for generations.

And Kevin himself was somehow a part of all this.

He was still trying—_steadfastly_ trying—to wrap his head around all the things Nick and his partner had told him. Not surprisingly, it wasn't an easy task.

"Is this one of the ones you saw?" Nick asked, having clearly seen his reaction.

Kevin nodded slowly, giving a quick glance at the writing filling the page beside the illustration. It wasn't in a language he could read, however, so he ignored it, staring silently at the image on the page.

"_Skalengeck_," Nick supplied helpfully. "They're generally opportunistic offenders—not particularly ambitious or predatory, but reckless enough to make them dangerous when they find something they _do_ want."

"Right," Kevin managed calmly—or at least he hoped.

Taking a deep breath Kevin tried to focus on the pages in front of him. The picture was an alarmingly good likeness of the thing William Dane had become, and he recognized the word Javier had used for it. Flipping through the pages, each one rewarded him with an image just as awful—and in many cases, much worse—and Kevin was hard pressed to hold reign on the galloping panic he felt beginning to mount at the knowledge that every one of them was _real_.

At least until the sight of another beast—strange-eyed, and oddly delicate-looking—caught his attention.

"This one," Kevin managed after a long moment's silence, still too breathless to properly make it a question.

Nick moved to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder at the opened page.

"That one's a _seelengut_," he said. "They're usually harmless on their own, but I'd be careful about underestimating them. And they can be difficult to reason with in a herd–"

Remembering Jenny's family during preparations for the wedding—her mother and aunts, siblings, cousins, second cousins, and other extended relations he never had gotten the chance to classify, and their overwhelmingly clear, strong opinions about _exactly_ how things were going to happen—Kevin couldn't help the faint, almost hysterical laugh that escaped him.

"Laugh when you've seen a man who was trampled to death by a group of kindly church-goers," Hank said, uneasily. "If I hadn't already seen much worse by then, I'd probably have nightmares."

Of course, thinking back further over his various experiences with the Duffy-O'Malley clan, Kevin didn't think that sounded very far out of character either.

Though any hard-won amusement he may or may not have entertained at the thought evaporated quickly a few pages later. It was actually the human figure in the illustration that first caught his eye—the iconic crested helmet of a gladiator easily recognizable to anyone passingly familiar with cheesy old Hollywood movies. His confusion at the detail distracted him momentarily, and it was a few seconds more before he managed to take in the image—the coliseum and in particular the man's opponents, so obviously inhuman—in its entirety. Once his brain successfully fumbled for understanding he quickly flipped back to the beginning of the entry and the familiar, frightening face that greeted him.

"And this?" Kevin asked, distantly proud of himself for the steadiness of his voice.

"_Löwen_, right?" Hank asked as he leaned forward to look at the page.

Nick confirmed his partner's words with a nod—and what Kevin thought was an unhappy noise.

"Now _those_ are usually bad news."

"Are they...evil?" Kevin found himself asking—somewhat startled that he even had, and already dreading the answer.

But to his relief the other detective—the other Grimm—shook his head.

"I don't know if I'd call any kind of _wesen_ evil, exactly," Nick said. "But many of them have drives that can make it difficult to integrate into human society to varying degrees. _Löwen_ are...aggressive, and competitive, and the ones we've met seem to lean toward dominating others. They can be violent, but I've known...a few who managed to fit in."

Though from the tone of his voice it was clear he had met a larger number that hadn't.

Still, in spite of Nick's rather damning assessment, Kevin found himself letting out a sudden snort, shaking his head.

"God," he said, though it was hardly more than a disarmed mutter, "that actually does kind of sound like Javi..."

And it really did, and even more so the longer Kevin thought about it. For while those weren't all traits that his partner was particularly proud of, Javier's measured efforts at keeping them under control didn't change the fact that they were _there_.

Of course Kevin wasn't able to think about it for very long. As his thoughtful silence stretched out he noticed—albeit somewhat belatedly—that both Nick and Hank were looking at him. And though neither of them seemed about to push for details, their expressions still betrayed curiosity—and not a small amount of concern.

"My partner," Kevin offered quietly, by way of explanation. "Back in New York. He's..."

He couldn't quite finish, but he managed a somewhat helpless gesture toward the page, his meaning plain.

Silence hung for a moment—not quite an awkward one, but one that was odd-shaped that neither man seemed quite sure how to fill. It was Nick who eventually broke it with a soft snort.

"Having a _wesen_ partner..." he mused, almost wistfully as he took his seat, joining Kevin and Hank at the table. "Now _that_ might have been convenient."

"No offense," Nick added, offering Hank a smile.

"Oh, none taken, believe me," Hank said quickly, picking up on his partner's sudden good humor. "Monroe is a lot of things, but _convenient_ isn't one of them."

Nick's response was a faint laugh. Kevin's confusion was pretty much a given at this point, but at least he had managed to avoid just staring blankly.

"Monroe is a friend," Nick said finally, offering some context to the subject. "And he's probably the only reason I survived this whole thing, to be completely honest."

And if Nick hadn't already had Kevin's undivided attention, that statement certainly would have gotten it.

"When I first started seeing them..." Nick began, trailing off slightly. "Well, I was a bit more informed than you were, but not by much. My Aunt Marie had told me what I was—what they were—just before landing in a coma, but otherwise the books were all I had to go by."

"Well..." he added with a faint smile, flipping the pages of the volume opened on the table, "the ones I could _read_, anyway."

That smile didn't last very long.

"I hate to imagine how things might have turned out if I hadn't met Monroe," Nick said, quietly, soberly and with a soft frown. "How _I_ might have turned out if I only had the books to guide me—what that would have made me."

"What do you mean?" Kevin asked.

"The books paint a very detailed picture of _wesen_," Nick explained uneasily, "but it's not a very balanced picture. Some of the accounts I've read..."

He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Grimms have a reputation in the _wesen_ world," Nick said, finally, "and it's not hard to see how they got it. Once upon a time, it was their duty to protect people from the dangers they couldn't see, but some were as bad or worse than the creatures they hunted. Those books are full of beheadings, and burnings, and _torture_—sometimes of innocent victims—and all of it justified by the fact that the persons involved were _wesen_."

"That's barbaric," Kevin said, horrified.

"It is," Nick agreed with a nod. "And it's what every _wesen_ you're likely to meet is going to have in mind when they meet you."

And now it was all starting to make sense—Jenny's terror leading up to their divorce. And Castle's. And _Javier's_. The realization left Kevin feeling shaken, and just a little bit ill.

"There isn't any way to make this stop, then," Kevin managed at last once he found his voice, small and washed-out and weary. "I'm going to be seeing them for the rest of my life."

Once he returned to New York there would be no escaping it at all...he would _have_ to face Javier.

"You do get used to it, believe it or not," Nick said, offering Kevin a sympathetic smile. "It's like... Well, you're a detective as well—I'm sure when you meet anyone you can't help but file away the details that stand out. Hair color, eyes, height, identifying marks... This...it's really just another set of details."

Kevin nodded quietly, though those reassurances didn't quite manage to put him at ease—and fortunately, when Nick's phone rang, he wasn't required to fake it any further. Nick excused himself with an apologetic smile and took it outside, leaving Kevin alone with Hank—and with his remaining uncertainties—in the silence that was left behind.

"What am I supposed to do when I get back home?" Kevin found himself asking quietly—of himself more than Hank.

Because it wasn't the sort of question anyone else _could_ answer. But by now much of his earlier panic and confusion had been extinguished, and without those things driving him—_guiding_ him—more than anything else Kevin just felt _lost_.

"There's more to it than just the _wesen_ thing, isn't there?" Hank said, after a time.

And it wasn't until he had that Kevin realized that, in the absence of any other focus, his eyes had fallen on the pictures in the book once again.

Kevin didn't answer—couldn't answer—right away.

"Javier..." Kevin managed finally, quietly, weakly. "He's not just my partner. We...we're close. Real close. Best friends, even. Or at least that was what I believed. Only now... Now there's all this _stuff_ all of a sudden, and I just don't know–"

The still unvoiced question caused Kevin to falter in his explanation, and his momentum was lost. Fortunately, Hank managed to fill in the blanks on his own.

"You don't know if you can still trust him," Hank guessed.

Looking at his expression Kevin saw, more than mere sympathy, _understanding_, and only just managed to confirm the assessment with a weak nod.

"It's hard finding out someone you trust has been keeping secrets from you," Hank said quietly, frowning. "Especially when it's the man you've got to count on to have your back every day."

And there was nothing at all pointed about the statement, though even without asking Hank's meaning was obvious.

"I've been there," Hank said, slowly, "but I've also been dealing with this long enough that I've had to learn what it's like being forced to keep these secrets—to break that trust—and I can tell you, that's not an easy position to be in either. And I might not know your partner, but I think once you've really had a chance to see all this from the inside..."

Hank fell quiet a moment, shaking his head...thinking, Kevin was certain, about his own experiences with secrets and betrayal, concessions and regret.

"If the trust between you was ever really deserved," Hank said finally, with conviction, "then I'm sure you'll find a way to forgive him, and learn how to trust him again."

And Kevin was so focused on his words that he nearly jumped when the door was opened suddenly.

"I'll be right there," Nick was saying into his phone, his tone urgent and somewhat tense. "Try to be...hospitable."

He hung up the phone, shaking his head with an expression of disbelief.

"That was Monroe," Nick explained quickly, "I need to get back to my house. Preferably fast."

"Why?" Hank asked. "What's going on?"

In answer, Nick turned to look at Kevin.

"I think your partner's come looking for you."


	5. Chapter Five: The Wolf

**Chapter Five: The Wolf**

_**Earlier...**_

The phone was ringing, and Monroe was doing his damnedest not to panic.

He was actually doing a much better job, he thought, than he once would have guessed was possible. Of course the larger part of that was probably due to the spectacularly high bar his recent life had established for justifying panic. As screwed up situations went this didn't even merit over a five on the scale as he had been forced to adjust it since becoming friends with Nick Burkhardt. Compared to ancient volcanic demons, rampaging zombies and kidnapping this was hardly even a _crisis_. In fact it was really, probably—_hopefully_—just an unfortunate misunderstanding, at best.

He just had to remain calm. Calm was Step One. Step Two was communicating the information _about_ the situation to Nick.

And if the call went well, Step Three would probably involve raiding Nick's fridge while he waited for the man to show. It was probably a vain hope that he would find some club soda in there, but Monroe _liked_ this sweater, and if it was at all possible he would really prefer to get the blood out of it before it stained...

As wound up as he was, he nearly missed the sound of the call being answered.

"_Burkhardt_."

"Ah, Nick," Monroe stumbled briefly, momentarily at a loss for how to address the situation. "We've got...a bit of a problem..."

And, really, Monroe wouldn't have traded Nick's friendship for the _world_, but there were times he honestly missed having fewer conversations that started out like this.

"_What kind of problem_?" Nick asked, concern understandably creeping into his voice.

"Oh, you know," Monroe offered briskly, "just a _cop-unconscious-on-your-livingroom-floor_ kind of problem."

The strained tone of cheeriness that crept into his voice was something he in no way felt, but at this point it might have been the only thing that could tame some of the tension that was still jarring through him. Nick seemed momentarily dumbstruck, and Monroe could hardly blame him—though he was more than happy to use it to his advantage, taking a deep breath before plowing ahead.

"Look, I seriously didn't know," he established quickly. "Rosalee asked me to drop off those books Juliette wanted to borrow, and when I got here there was this guy waiting for you. Only he was _wesen_ and he had a ridiculous mad on and, well... Things kind of got crazily out of hand? Of course, once _that_ was handled, I found his _badge_, and I thought maybe it was some kind of misunderstanding?"

"_You did say unconscious, not dead, right?_" Nick asked him.

Monroe spared a quick glance to the man in question. Fortunately, from the rise and fall of his chest it didn't look like the answer to that question had changed.

"Well, _yeah_," Monroe said. "I mean... _Unconscious_ is what makes it a misunderstanding, but I'm pretty sure _dead_ would upgrade this to a _crisis_."

Monroe paused briefly, running a hand over his face as he took in another breath.

"Look, just...tell me what I need to do."

For a moment Nick was quiet. Oddly, when he finally spoke, his voice sounded almost _pained_.

"_Quick question_," Nick asked him slowly. "_You said you saw his badge...is this guy NYPD?_"

Monroe frowned. The detail was so very specific that for a moment he wondered if it really was possible that the universe was playing some kind of joke on him.

"Uh..._yeah_... How did you know?"

**. o . O . o .**

After the call, Nick had explained as much of the situation as he could on their way out the door. Hank had made the calculated decision to head back to the station—because _someone_ had to hold down the fort, and it was looking less and less likely that Nick would be getting back to work any time soon.

When they stepped through the door into Nick's home, Kevin wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it definitely wasn't what he found.

It was quiet, for one—almost _deathly_ quiet, and Kevin was forced to shove the implications the word carried with it swiftly to the back of his mind—but the tension in the air was palpable even before the others came into view. They were seated in the living room, and though both men had looked up to witness his and Nick's arrival, their positions, directly across from one another, suggested a vigilant, watchful mistrust. They each had a beer in their hands—which Javier was not drinking in favor of holding the bottle to the side of his head. The other man—Monroe, Kevin supposed—sat with his shoulders slightly hunched, his overall posture seeming somewhat guilty.

And if the silence and tension between the two men—the two _wesen—_had been intense before, with the arrival of their Grimm counterparts it became almost overpowering.

Once he caught sight of his friend, it was Nick who finally broke it.

"Whoa, Monroe, are you okay? Your face–"

Monroe seemed almost confused by the concern, only belatedly lifting a hand to the damage on his face.

"What? No, I'm fine," he insisted. "_This_ is... Well... I mean, it was just a little misunderstanding."

Though Kevin couldn't help but think that those wounds—four thin, parallel scratches across the plane of Monroe's left cheek—looked like a hell of a lot more than a simple misunderstanding. In fact, if pressed Kevin would have to say they looked an awful lot like claw-marks. He couldn't quite suppress the shiver that crept up his spine at the thought.

He could only hope that Javier hadn't noticed.

Kevin felt..._trapped_ by the intense unease he found himself experiencing now that he was back in his partner's presence. And though he wouldn't have imagined it possible, once he managed to meet Javier's gaze, Kevin found himself hating it even more. His partner looked so wary and uncertain—though perhaps also just a little bit embarrassed, Kevin thought, as though he felt exposed. And Kevin tried to hold onto that, and to dismiss everything else he was feeling—just for the moment—from his mind. He tried to hold on and remind himself that he _knew_ this man, and that the Javier he knew was his partner and his best friend, no matter _what_...

Perhaps it was in seeking out something familiar that Kevin's mind chose to latch on to one small—and admittedly rather random—detail.

"You got knocked out by Mr. Rogers?" he asked.

Because, really, for all the guy was sort of built like a lumberjack, Monroe was also wearing the same style of sweater vest that Kevin liked to wear on occasion—and which Javier chose to mock him for, mercilessly, on a fairly routine basis. And while Kevin knew for a _fact_ that he pulled it off brilliantly every time, on a man of Monroe's height and build, the result was...slightly more incongruous, to say the least.

Kevin watched Javier dart a glance at Monroe, recognizing Kevin's meaning with a brief shock of surprise. At least for a second, anyway. Then he turned _indignant_.

"He's a _blutbad_," Javier defended sharply. "They're ruthless killers."

"Um, _hello_? Pot? Kettle?" Monroe objected. "_You_ were the one who jumped _me_."

"I came looking for a Grimm and found a _blutbad_ lurking on his doorstep," Javier said, turning his gaze toward Monroe. "What the hell was I supposed to think?"

There was, Kevin thought, remarkably little actual anger in either man's voice. But while the exchange was surprisingly civil in light of the circumstances, it was still far from friendly, and Kevin felt a creeping sliver of anxiety at the thought that their earlier..._misunderstanding_ might still possibly reignite.

Fortunately, it didn't seem that Kevin was alone in his concern.

"Hey, Monroe, would you mind..." Nick asked, ending the question with a nod of his head toward the other room.

Only a brief, blank moment passed before the other man understood.

"Oh, yeah. Right. Sure."

Though perhaps Kevin hadn't been fully successful in interpreting Nick's intent, not completely. Because once Monroe had stepped out of the room Nick went to follow him.

And then Kevin and Javier were alone.

The silence that fell between them was by far the most uncomfortable Kevin had ever experienced, heavy with things still yet to be acknowledged. Kevin was at a loss for how he should break it, and almost afraid to even try. Javier appeared to mirror his uncertainty, eyes falling short of contact, as if unsure whether to meet his gaze or look away. And Kevin thought he almost looked like he wanted to bolt—which should have been absurd after following him all this way, but while Kevin's panic and his terror had done the work of driving him here, knowing what he did now, he felt almost certain that it was _this_ moment that Javier had feared the most.

And Javier had come seeking it anyway.

Kevin took a deep breath, and it shook, but though his words were somewhat hesitant his voice was steady when he spoke.

"Javier, what... What are you doing here?" Kevin asked. "How did you even find me?"

"You took off from work scared out of your mind," Javier muttered quietly, hardly looking at him. "Excuse me for being a little concerned."

Which Kevin felt was perfectly fair, of course, even if it didn't quite answer his question. He didn't know what to say—caught between conflicting desires to either press for an answer or apologize, it seemed safer to say nothing at all. Instead he sat down, taking the seat opposite Javier that Monroe had just vacated. He couldn't quite make himself look at Javier, either, but he heard his partner sigh.

"Jenny told us where you were headed, so here I am," Javier said finally, wearily. "I really wish you'd stuck around, Kev. Castle and I were just waiting for you to calm down before trying to explain. I probably could have caught you at the airport before you left, but Castle thought cornering you like that would be a bad idea, so I grabbed the next flight I could after yours."

He paused a moment, a slight shift audible in his voice when he continued.

"It's just as well," Javier continued, almost sullenly. "Considering you took off without any notice, _someone_ had to tell Captain Gates about your sudden 'family emergency'. So if you've still got a job when we get back, you know, you're welcome."

As Javier had finished up his grousing—though he really was genuinely upset if he was resorting to actual air quotes—Kevin couldn't help but let out a faint snort.

"Yeah, okay," he conceded weakly. "I get it. I'm a dumb-ass."

And, glancing at Javier, the smile his partner wore was just as faint, but it was _there_.

"I also brought you some clothes, since I'm guessing you didn't stop to pack before running off," Javier said. "Castle told me he'd book you a flight back. When you're ready."

Kevin's eyes stung just a little. It was such a relief that, even in the midst of all this, Javier and Castle still did have his back. That they really were on his side, even when they had every reason not to be. And maybe all wasn't yet forgiven—whether for secrets kept from him, or for the scare he had given both of them in running–

But it was definitely a start.

"So..." Kevin started, trying to hard to relax, and just a little desperate to keep the conversation from stalling. "Who else that I know is..._wesen_? I mean, Castle and Jenny, obviously. According to Burkhardt's books, Jenny's a..._seelengut_? But I didn't see what Castle looked like. What is he?"

Javier hesitated in answering, though only for a moment.

"Castle and his family are all _fuchsbau_," Javier told him. "That's like a fox. Oh...and Perlmutter. He's a _todesrabe_."

And, honestly, Kevin isn't sure why, after so many surprises about people much closer, the news about Perlmutter still managed to throw him just a little. Perhaps simply because the ME would never have otherwise crossed his mind. But he was saved from thinking too hard when Nick and his friend returned.

"I don't think I've encountered those before," Nick commented curiously, wordlessly offering Kevin a beer—which he accepted with an almost desperate gratitude.

Monroe seemed unsurprised by the inquiring glance the detective sent his way.

"_Todesraben_ are crow-like _wesen_," he offered readily. "You can think of them as the more scrupulous competition in a _geier's_ traditional niche–"

He paused briefly, tilting his head.

"Well, granted your definition of 'scrupulous' credits scavenging from the dead as a lesser evil to murder," Monroe stipulated, almost as an afterthought.

Most of that went over Kevin's head, but granted Perlmutter's profession, he still found the implications rather alarming.

"Javi, Perlmutter doesn't–"

"Only if they were organ-donors," Javier interrupted, answering the question a little uneasily. "And I'm pretty sure it's not whatever gross thing you're thinking."

There was a brief, but significant moment of rather awkward silence. Javier pulled a drink from his beer with a grimace. Honesty, though, Kevin wasn't even sure _he_ knew what he was thinking, so he decided he was probably better off _not_ thinking about it, for now. Resolving to ask later—preferably _much_ later—Kevin did his best to put those questions out of his mind.

"And you're a..._löwen_?" Kevin asked, returning to the more immediate topic at hand.

Javier hummed softly, nodding, though Kevin noticed him hesitate briefly.

"Though, my mother is _yaguaraté_," he added after a moment, somewhat quietly, as if the detail were something significant.

And it seemed that, judging from Monroe's faint snort, apparently it was.

"Well I suppose that winning combination explains your lovable disposition," Monroe remarked—sarcastically, but also somewhat thoughtful.

Javier rolled his eyes, but didn't seem to take any real deep offense.

Kevin decided he wouldn't ask, not here, though he could recall all too easily the times when Javier had complained of inheriting his mother's temper. Kevin had met his partner's family, of course, more than once—Javier's mother and his sister, Theresa. Though Kevin had never personally had the misfortune to fall on their bad side, he had heard and seen enough to know that he absolutely never wanted to be.

Still, even with this in mind, it felt odd trying to fit them into the larger picture. By that same token, it was difficult to imagine Castle's mother Martha, and his daughter Alexis as a part of it as well. He had seen so much and had even more revealed to him in just the past two days, yet Kevin was starting to realize it was hardly more than a glimpse of what was really out there.

Kevin was lost for a moment for anything else to say.

"And are you, uh, _wieder_?" Kevin asked, finally.

Nick had used the word in describing Monroe's habits during their drive. Kevin winced a little as he stumbled over the term, almost positive he was pronouncing it wrong. And he wasn't sure he had understood it anyway...

Something about impulse control and..._Pilates_? Maybe it was a Portland thing.

Perhaps his confusion showed. Or perhaps something about the question itself was ridiculous in some way Kevin wasn't aware of. Or maybe it was simply the fact that it was _Kevin_ asking it which was funny—it was difficult to tell, but Javier let out an amused snort. That earned him a warning glare from Monroe, which Javier did respect, albeit reluctantly, putting on a straight face that Kevin could tell was rather forced.

"I do what I can with my issues," Javier allowed diplomatically, "but just because I've got ways of handling myself doesn't make me..._wieder_. It's just the way my sister and I were raised."

"But you clearly have a thing," Monroe pointed out, somewhat insistently.

Javier let out an irritated breath, though he hitched a half shrug.

"I just try to keep myself focused," he said slowly. "I choose something in my life and I just...give as much of myself to it as I can. Sports in high school, then the military. These days it's the badge."

Though for some reason Kevin couldn't quite place, his partner's words felt like half-truths, and Javier's vague discomfort with the topic had him reluctant to pursue it any further. Filing it away, Kevin resolved from there to change the subject.

It was really just one more thing he would have to ask his partner about later.

**. o . O . o .**

Javier had been subjected to his fair share of surreal moments in his life—_more_ than his share, he would have said, if anyone had bothered to ask. In recent years, the vast majority of those moments could be blamed rather squarely on his association with Richard Castle—the writer was like a magnet for weird, _seriously_. But if Javier was going to be perfectly honest when it came to the _degree_ off offense, even the strangest situations that the _fuchsbau_ could arguably be held responsible for barely held a candle to the things Kevin had put him through.

The real problem with Kevin, Javier had long ago decided, was that the weirdness had a tendency to creep up and catch you off guard. Everything you did for him seemed perfectly rational up until the moment where it suddenly wasn't—and if you were Javier, that moment was generally rather devastating.

Castle had once claimed that it was really _only_ Javier who had such a hard time seeing this, and that the reason he never seemed to notice what he was getting into was how tightly he was wrapped around his partner's finger. Of course, Castle being Castle, he had made the questionable choice of offering this observation the night that Kevin had left on his honeymoon with Jenny. They had been about half a bottle into his efforts to dull the pain, and Javier had literally snarled at him—the writer had wisely never brought it up again.

The previous winner for the most bizarre moment in his life had, quite naturally, been Kevin's wedding. Though Javier had cursed both himself and his partner on several occasions leading up to it, it hadn't been until the wedding itself that he had seriously started to wonder at exactly which point he had actually lost his mind. As the sole _löwen_ groomsman amongst a wedding party full of terrified _seelenguter_—holding his peace while the man he had fallen for married someone else—insanity had seemed like the only possible explanation.

(Miraculously, the wedding itself had gone off without a hitch, though he was fairly sure the best man—Jenny's weedy half-brother—had nearly fainted.)

And that masterpiece of misery had only just been supplanted a few months ago by the events surrounding Kevin's divorce. That it had happened at all had been disarming enough—so suddenly, and initially without explanation. His initial shock—and his anger toward Jenny—had driven him to press for that explanation, and Javier doubted that anything could have prepared him for the answers he found.

Kevin Ryan—his partner, his closest friend, the man Javier had been pining over uselessly for _years—_was descended from Grimms.

It had seemed so laughable at first—literally, if Javier hadn't been so furious he might have laughed in Jenny's face. After that had come disbelief—not just at Jenny's discovery, but for how she had acted upon it. She had broken Kevin's heart, and to this day there were times when Javier just couldn't quite believe it—even now, having seen the truth of it himself, it still didn't seem quite real.

And Javier wasn't entirely sure whether he should count his current circumstances separately, or as a continuation of what had come before, though the distinction probably didn't matter...

When it came to the strangest moments of Javier's life, Kevin was definitely the reigning instigator, and still champion.

It really was sort of funny, he supposed, how it had made sense at the time, coming all this way. Yet now that he was _here_ the chain of events barely sounded sane, even to him. Javier half can't believe he actually did it, but here he is. On the opposite side of the country. Sitting_—brooding_—in a Grimm's livingroom. Drinking a Grimm's _beer_ while the Grimm and his partner talked Grimm things in the next room.

Seriously, his life anymore. Just..._how_?

Of course, the fidgeting _blutbad_ in the sweater vest that kept shooting him looks of pity really wasn't helping much either.

"So," Monroe ventured cautiously, after what was clearly too long a silence for his peace of mind. "_Löwen _and_ yaguaraté._ That must have been rough growing up."

Javier threw him a sharp glare, but Monroe was quick to raise his hands in defense before he had the chance for anything else.

"Hey, trust me, I'm not trying to make light," Monroe said hurriedly. "It's just– I got married recently, and my wife...she's a _fuchsbau_, and the whole _grundfalsch_ thing has totally turned out to be a much bigger deal than I maybe thought it was when I proposed. So, I don't know. I'm rambling. Sorry. I just—I thought you might have a bit of perspective on that."

It was offered conversationally enough, but there was a faint note of tension in Monroe's voice. Based on his own experiences, Javier had a feeling that "big deal" was probably a gross understatement. In fact, now that Javier thought of it, hadn't he seen something in the news a while back about PD in Oregon taking down some murder cult? He remembered thinking, even then, that some of the details the story described had smelled suspiciously like the Wesenrein...

A cop and a Grimm whose _blutbad_ buddy had married outside of his kind—you didn't even _need_ to be a detective to put those pieces together. Even if Burkhardt hadn't already earned a grudging respect for the help being offered his partner, that story alone might have forced Javier to like him just a little bit.

Well, if a Grimm could be charitable then so could he.

"Yeah," Javier acknowledged quietly. "Yeah. It wasn't always easy."

"I mean...I'm guessing you weren't exactly part of the pride?" Monroe pressed.

Javier shook his head, quiet a moment before he answered.

"No, I wasn't," Javier said. "I mean, my sister and I grew up with some of our father's traditions, but it was always just on our own."

He had wanted to be, when he was a kid though. He had wanted so badly to feel like he _belonged_...

Now that he was older Javier not only saw his father's wisdom in keeping him and his sister out of it, he was _grateful_. The comparison was overused, but New York really could be a jungle sometimes, and that held especially true for _wesen_. Perhaps his experiences weren't typical, but Javier could remember too few times in his past that _wesen_ who socialized in traditional groups had shown him anything but ugliness.

"But we stuck it all out together," Javier said, finally. "In the end it doesn't matter who your family is—it's having them stand beside you that really matters."

There was certainly a lot more that Javier could have said on the subject, but he honestly wasn't in a sharing kind of mood. He had spent the past several hours experiencing all the various shades and flavors of panic out of concern for his partner—prodding those old childhood scars to see if they still hurt was the last thing Javier needed.

"Anyway," Javier deflected, offering Monroe a faint smile, "I've seen _much_ stranger matches than a _blutbad_ and a _fuchsbau_."

In spite of the brief and stilted nature of their earlier conversation—the one that had taken place after Javier had regained consciousness—he had Monroe pegged as the morbidly curious type. He wasn't disappointed.

"Oh?"

And maybe it was a little personal sharing the details of Kevin's past love-life, but after the trouble he'd been put through Javier felt his partner owed him into next week...at _least_.

He could always blame it on his head-injury if he felt any regrets.

"Kevin's ex-wife, Jenny, is a _seelengut_."

"_Really_?" Monroe remarked, with undisguised interest. Though his surprised expression drooped into a slight frown. "His _ex-_wife, though? That sounds a little...not optimistic."

Javier winced slightly, because he supposed that was fair.

"She served him with papers once she found out about his...family history," Javier explained. "I mean, it kind of scared the crap out of her, to the point where she couldn't even look him in the eye. Which is kind of a shame, because before that they were...sort of perfect."

And didn't it just make Javier the pettiest man alive that—even now, after it had all fallen apart—saying so still felt sour on his tongue.

"Now that Kevin knows, maybe there's a chance she can get over it," Javier said—though this was possibly an attempt at justifying his own bitterness to himself. "Maybe they can find a way to make it work..."

"But?" Monroe interrupted quietly. And that frown of his had only gotten deeper. "You...don't actually sound all too happy about that."

And Javier chose to blame it on the fact that he was so very, very tired, but he barely managed to keep it from showing on his face—in every sense of the word, though he briefly felt claws pricking at the flesh of his clenched fists. Yet something else in his posture or scent must have given him away, because Monroe's eyes widened slightly.

"Oh," Monroe managed, faintly. Then, "_Oh_. Really?"

Which Javier chose not to dignify with an immediate response—though apparently Castle was right if he really was that transparent.

"If they want to try and pick up the pieces—there's no way in hell I'm getting in the way of that," Javier finally told him, tiredly, "but I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't love a second chance. I gave Jenny a free pass the first time around because I thought she was what he needed, and she threw that away. _She_ was the one who wound up breaking his heart, and Kevin–"

And Kevin obviously wasn't as fragile as Javier had once thought.

"Man, you really _have_ got it bad," Monroe said. "If this is what comes of a kinder and gentler generation of Grimms, then may God have mercy on us all."

And as much as Javier might have liked to take offense he couldn't help but laugh.

"So," Javier asked after a moment, determined to sate his own curiosity, "Kev and I met through work, but you said you were a clockmaker—just how the hell did all _this_ happen?"

_All this_ was accompanied by a rather vague gesture, but Monroe seemed to understand nonetheless.

"Unsurprisingly, it went down a bit like _our_ introduction," Monroe said after a moment. "During his first case after he came into his heritage, there was a little...well, let's call it 'racial profiling' that happened. Then later that night I caught him snooping in my back yard and tackled him through a window."

Javier let out a snort. Maybe Kevin was fooled, but having gone up against Monroe himself head-to-head...yeah, he could picture it.

"I was sort of first-contact for Nick as far as _wesen_ were concerned," Monroe continued. "I'm pretty sure I wasn't what he was expecting, but then the feeling was totally mutual. When we first met, Nick was more like a confused puppy than the monster I grew up hearing about in stories..."

"You felt sorry for him," Javier guessed.

"Well yeah, a little bit," Monroe admitted with a tilt of his head. "But I guess I was also, I dunno, curious? And when I talked, he listened to what I had to say..."

Monroe trailed off, clearly remembering, dismissing it after a moment with a shake of his head.

"One day he accuses me of kidnapping a little girl," Monroe said, voice fogged somewhat with lingering disbelief, "the next he asks me to watch over his dying aunt."

"Huh," Javier managed—because yeah, he could see how that could throw you.

"His aunt was Marie Kessler," Monroe added.

"Wait, are you _kidding _me?"

"Not even a little bit."

Because Javier had heard of Marie Kessler, of course, and news of her passing had spread through the entire _wesen _world. There had even been some faint murmurings that another of her line had taken up the gauntlet, but then of course there would be—a legacy as terrifying as hers would hardly die an easy death. But with little more to go on in the way of hard details, they were still only rumors. Javier would never have imagined the unconventional Grimm whispered about in gossip from out West could possibly have been the same man...

A man to whose house Javier had shown up, uninvited, and started a fight with someone who was clearly a very close friend–

Honestly, Nick Burkhardt seemed like a decent enough guy, but right now Javier really felt lucky just to have his head.

"Wow, so, uh, what finally got her?" Javier asked—which may not have been strictly appropriate, but Castle would probably never forgive him if he didn't ask.

"_Cancer_," Monroe answered, a touch incredulously.

Javier could hardly blame him. It wasn't often you heard about a Grimm meeting their end that way. Most were said to live very violent lives, even the longest of which normally had a very abrupt and gruesome end. The simple fact that Marie Kessler had lived long enough for something like that to take her down in her old age said everything about her that any _wesen_ needed to know.

(And it really wasn't a subject Javier wanted to think about, but he realized with a start that it was something he would more than likely be forced to confront—and probably _soon_. For Kevin's sake and for his own they would both need to be ready...)

Javier was almost grateful when Monroe chose to interrupt his thoughts.

"So, what happens next for you guys?" Monroe asked cautiously. "I mean when you get back to New York and everything."

There were a lot of ways Javier might have chosen to answer the question, he supposed, though a few of them skirted uncomfortably close to the concerns he had only just managed to set aside.

"Whatever has to," Javier told him finally, decisively—as if the answer were honestly that simple. "I mean—I made friends with a _seelengut._"

Javier almost enjoyed Monroe's wince of sympathy.

"Which is arguably a little crazy," he admitted quietly, "but I did it for Kevin—because Kevin is my best friend and he means the world to me._ That_ hasn't really changed. So...so what if my best friend is now a Grimm? Maybe it won't ever be exactly the same as it was, but...there will be a way to make things work. There always is."

It probably wasn't the strongest argument Javier could have managed. Still, the _blutbad_ seemed somewhat impressed.

"Well. Good," Monroe said with a nod. "But let me tell you, it's not going to be easy..."


	6. Chapter Six: An Interlude

**Chapter Six: An Interlude**

Given a choice, Kevin would have loved to just crawl inside Nick's books and stay there until the world started making real sense again. Unfortunately, his partner was right. Leaving New York without a word or any plan had been a pretty stupid thing to do, and Kevin knew he really couldn't afford to stay for long.

Nick was understanding on the subject, and in the absence of time enough for _answers_ he had been willing to keep in touch. It wasn't much, but it was something at least.

They probably would have left that night, if they were able but though the spirit was willing, the flesh was dragged down beneath the weight of an apocalyptic adrenaline crash to end all others. The kind where you barely had the chance to feel tired before you were sleeping fully-clothed on top of the bedsheets and drooling.

As it was, he and Javier almost didn't make it back to the hotel.

Kevin wasn't even sure what time they had faded out, only that it was past seven the next morning when he finally stirred. Even then it was to a desperate and bleary search trying to silence the incessant _plinking_ noise coming from Javier's phone. The sound Javier had somehow trained himself to ignore long ago because it meant a text message from Castle. But like many a true phone addict, there was something about unanswered texts that managed to tear at Kevin's very soul, and as much as he would have loved to roll over and dive back into sleep he couldn't just let it go.

Fortunately the phone was found in short order, and Kevin was able to extract it from Javier's front pocket without waking his partner who was still fast asleep beside him.

There were several texts piled up, some from the day before, but just as many from overnight. According to the time stamp, they hadn't _actually_ been rolling in every ten seconds, but due to the weird time-dilation that occurred when you were abominably tired it had certainly _felt _that way. Most of them were simple inquiries along the lines of "_Are you there yet?_" or "_What's happening_?", though they seemed to have gotten a little needier and more desperate overnight. The most recent one simply read "_Are you dead?_" which made Kevin smile for about two seconds before he remembered why they had come to Portland in the first place.

Harried hyperbole or not, it was entirely possible that Castle considered Javier's demise a very real possibility.

The writer clearly deserved something. Not wanting to wake Javier, it was left to Kevin to respond.

"_Not dead. Let us sleep. – K_"

Castle's baffling reply was some sort of lion _emoji_ and a winking heart, which left Kevin briefly wondering if curiosity and anxiety hadn't finally finished the job of driving the writer totally insane.

"_Coming home?_" was the question which followed it moments later.

And when his hesitant "_Yes_" was answered in mere seconds by a link to their ticket booking, Kevin's smile managed to stay.

They were able to grab just a few more hours sleep before having to wake up and get ready to make the airport on time. Javier's head still ached dully from the fight the day before, and Kevin was so tired that he felt half-dead. It made for a subdued start to their return journey, and it was an hour or so into the flight before either felt revived enough for anything approaching an intelligent conversation.

Even then, though the question had been resting in the back of his mind for some time, it was a long time before Kevin finally drew up the courage to ask.

"How are we going to explain all of this to Kate when we get back?"

He could tell from the slow, measured breath his partner took that Javier had been expecting the question would come.

"We're not," Javier answered slowly, firmly, the words holding a faint edge meant to discourage further argument. "If she asks if _anyone_ asks you had a family emergency. Castle will have been playing interference for us, I'm sure, so it shouldn't be too hard."

Though, in spite of the certainty in his words, Javier seemed to be having difficulty looking him in the eye once again.

"What? _Javi_–"

But the words died in his throat. And as it sank in what his partner was asking him to do what he realized Javier, and Castle, and Nick and his partner and everyone, _all of them_, had obviously been expecting him to do from the start Kevin felt more than a little bit stupid. While it certainly should have been obvious, until that moment somehow it really _hadn't_ been, not to him.

He wasn't a total idiot of _course_ he would be expected to lie it just hadn't really hit home until that moment that he would be expected to lie to a _friend_.

"If we went around telling everyone we were _sure_ we could trust, do you think any of this would have stayed a secret very long?"

There was sympathy in Javier's words, but more than anything Kevin thought he sounded tired. That they each knew some share of the disappointment and betrayal the other had seen in their lives went unsaid.

"But it's _Kate_," Kevin argued weakly, more because of that shared history than in spite of it.

Kate, who was his friend, and Javier's and who was so close to _Castle_ that sometimes Kevin just wanted to knock their heads together and get it over with. Kate, who they _both_ knew had suffered more than her fair share of disappointment and real betrayal at the hands of those she should have been able to trust...

"I know it's not easy, Kev," Javier told him quietly. "_Believe_ me, I know that. Do you think there weren't times I wanted to be able to tell you? I wanted it _so _badly. And Jenny–"

Javier cut himself off, glancing down the aisle. The cabin was quiet. No one was paying much attention to anything beyond their own seats, but Kevin thought it likely wouldn't take much for that to change. Javier must have been thinking roughly the same thing, for he stood slowly, motioning for Kevin to follow. Kevin was dubious where could you honestly go for a private chat in a moving _airplane_? but it didn't discourage him from allowing himself be led.

And, as they both squeezed uncomfortably into the cramped airplane bathroom, he was just confused enough not to argue.

"You _have_ to know she wanted to tell you, Kevin," Javier said him, his voice strung tight with a weary intensity. "If nothing else I say manages to communicate just how important these secrets are to us, think about that. She married you you were going to spend the rest of your _lives_ together and Jenny _still_ felt the need to go looking for an excuse in order to justify telling you the truth."

"I don't understand," Kevin just barely managed to say.

He did his best to stifle his frustration swallowed easily enough by grief for his failed marriage because it went so easily without saying he might as well have the words tattooed on his face at this point.

"She was the one who knew first, Kev," Javier told him quietly. "She was looking into your family's history. She wanted to tell you, and she thought that if she found some _wesen_ heritage it might make telling the truth a little easier."

And obviously she hadn't liked what she found, because just knowing what Kevin's family once was what he had then only held the potential to be had been enough to scare her away.

"It still doesn't make any sense, Javi," he argued forlornly. "I've never– I _could never_ hurt her. Did she really think I'd–"

The unanswered question of just _what_ she thought he might have done choked him back into silence. Even knowing what Nick had told him about past Grimms, he just didn't _understand_–

Kevin wasn't sure he _wanted_ to understand.

"Look," Javier said, "_seelenguter_ aren't exactly the bravest _wesen_ when they're on their own and can't count on the herd to protect them. Hell, credit where it's due, Jenny's a lot braver than most. I can't say I understand why she thought she had to, but if she honestly thought you were capable of hurting her I doubt she would have confronted you with _divorce papers_, Kevin not when she could have just _run_. It probably wasn't easy for her, and it wasn't much, but she wanted you to have that much closure, at least."

While Kevin found it impossible to dispute Javier's logic, the argument wasn't exceptionally comforting.

"It was never _you_ that she was afraid of, Kevin," Javier told him quietly, "it was the _Grimm_. I mean, some of the stories we grew up hearing as kids would make the _Saw_ films look tame but that's not on you, Kev. That's not _your_ fault."

Javier reached up to give Kevin's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Jenny and I and Castle too we've known you long enough to know the kind of man you really are," Javier said finally. "Anything _else_ we might see is just our own cultural baggage getting the better of us and that's not _your_ weight to carry, Kev, so don't let it be."

He knew Javier was probably right, but it was hard for Kevin to unburden himself of the fact that, whenever Jenny looked at him anymore, what she apparently saw was a monster.

Kevin hesitated, taking a slow breath.

"What do _you_ see, Javi?"

Javier looked him over quietly, considering. For a moment, Kevin almost didn't want him to answer. Finally, his partner released a sigh.

"I won't say the idea doesn't throw me a little bit, Kev," Javier admitted, "but I don't scare anywhere near that easily. If it was anyone else, maybe I'd be a bit nervous..."

He trailed off for a moment, shaking his head and offering Kevin a determined smile.

"At most, Kev," he said, "when I look at you, what I see is a _challenge_."

Which Kevin felt was lacking as an answer. Unfortunately, Javier never got the chance to explain himself if he had even intended to because it was at that moment the flight attendant chose to knock on the door. And they might still have taken the time if she hadn't threatened to grab the air marshal if they weren't out in the next ten seconds. That had successfully lit a fire under them, because being detained by airport security was a complication that neither of them needed at this point.

Javier offered a bullshit excuse about Kevin needing his help with eye drops which Kevin was fairly certain the attendant recognized as bullshit. The whole thing was dropped with surprisingly little trouble, though they returned to their seats through a sea of embarrassed glances and disapproving stares. And Kevin really did have a whole lot on his mind, so he didn't honestly get it until the girl across the aisle caught his eye, tossing him a smile and a quick thumbs-up.

(And the issue of Kate still hadn't been resolved to Kevin's liking, but reviving the topic would have been difficult when he could scarcely look at Javier without blushing for the rest of the flight.)


	7. Chapter Seven: The Foxes (Part 1)

**Chapter Seven: The Foxes (Part 1)**

Richard Castle was terrible at waiting.

This was, of course, a fact unlikely to surprise anyone one who had ever spent more than five minutes in his presence. All the same, however, it was a fact that had never ceased being relevant. It wasn't that he was incapable of waiting—he was a father, after all, and all joking and modesty aside he thought he was a damned good one. Over the years he had been surprised to find himself capable of a remarkable degree of patience. It was just that his coping mechanisms for dealing with things like boredom and suspense were often tragically detrimental to the patience of everyone else around him.

Or even, on a few rare occasions, people who weren't around him.

His present situation seemed to fall into that category—or so he was forced to assume, given Esposito's current, irritated expression. After all, he and Javier had not actually spoken or seen each other for a stretch of time approaching two days. And yet, if forced to judge solely by the look on the detective's face, someone might have come away with the erroneous impression that Castle had been in his face and deviling him the whole time.

Admittedly, if pressured, Castle would have grudgingly acknowledged that the tenor—or, more probably the frequency—of his texts could be to blame... Or, he supposed, it could have been his decision to greet the boys at the airport holding a sign which read "_Roach_".

Both, Castle thought, were equally likely.

"So, gentlemen," Castle greeted them as soon as they drew close—and he was fast, but not fast enough to keep Javier from snagging the sign out of his hands. "How was your trip? Educational, I hope?"

Though he kept an eye out for retaliation from Javier's corner, the bulk of Castle's attention was on the Grimm.

Kevin seemed...more relaxed than he had the last time Castle had seen him, certainly. Though, given that his last image of the other detective was one of utter panic, that really wasn't saying very much. Kevin was visibly uneasy, of course, but Castle was relieved to see more of awkwardness in his present nervousness than actual fear. This was proven when Kevin greeted him with a somewhat embarrassed smile, but even more so when he answered.

"Well, I made some new friends," Kevin said, lightly, "and Javi got beat up by a watchmaker."

The noise Javier made sounded as sullen as it did pitiful.

"The, uh...guy Kevin went to see?" Castle asked, concerned.

"_No_," Javier huffed miserably. "A friend of his. _Blutbaden_."

He frowned, releasing a breath.

"I might have...possibly deserved it," Javier admitted testily. "A little."

Under normal circumstances Castle would sink his teeth into a story like that and never let go, but their circumstances had ceased even resembling normal months in advance of all this madness. Still, though it was clear from their body-language—a guarded awareness in their movements around one another, and the subtle yet alarming distance between them—that they hadn't yet fallen back into their usual ease, whatever rift the truth had torn between them was clearly beginning to mend. Though genuinely relieved, at the same time Castle was sincerely disappointed…

Whatever other secrets might now lie in the open, it seemed as if the full extent of Javier's feelings for his partner was not among them.

"So how have things been here?" Javier asked. "And just how pissed is Kate right now?"

His attempt at deflection was painfully transparent, but he was plainly past the point of caring.

"Not too pissed, actually," Castle reassured them. "We managed to wrap things up just fine without you two, thank you very much. Though once Mr. Dane was told you two were…busy elsewhere, he became _surprisingly_ cooperative."

It had taken Castle a little subtle nudging—and getting a chance to speak to Dane in private hadn't been easy. When it came to exploring a _wesen _angle on their case, Castle had gotten better over the years at questioning witnesses in a manner that flew under Kate's radar. But when it came to CIs and suspects, usually that was Javier's job, and it was a job much harder to do without a badge.

Fortunately, Dane had caught on fairly quickly... Given that the alternative involved being stuck in lock-up when the Grimm returned, the _skalengeck_ had been _unsurprisingly_ eager to get things over with as soon as possible.

Unfortunately—and also, Castle thought, unsurprisingly—Kevin seemed to catch on just as fast. He seemed rather uneasy at the thought of his presence being used as a threat. Castle moved on quickly, hoping to derail that train of thought off before it could go much further.

"Which isn't to say Kate's very happy about being left with all the paperwork," Castle offered, "but she was very understanding once I explained—and I'll fill you guys in on exactly _what_ I explained to her on the drive."

Kevin frowned at this, but whatever his objection it was swiftly overruled by one of Javier's own.

"You do that, Castle," Javier said, "but _I'm_ driving."

"It's my car," Castle argued, frowning.

"You're already about as fidgety and distracted as I've ever seen you," Javier told him firmly, "and I think we both know that as soon as you finish filling _us_ in you're going to have all sorts of questions of your own. I'd prefer you not split your focus between your curiosity and the road. So _no_, Castle, I am not letting you drive."

"But it's _my_ car..."

Castle glanced at Kevin, hoping to appeal to the other detective's more charitable nature—and by extension appeal to the part of Javier that was wrapped firmly around his partner's finger.

Sadly, it seemed to Castle that the tide had turned against him.

"Shotgun!"

Despite his energetic call of dibs, Kevin hadn't actually taken the front seat for himself—which Castle thought might have had a lot more to do with Javier's mood than it did with his partner's compassion and sense of justice. As much as it galled him, Javier had a point—there were questions Castle was _dying_ to ask, and having Castle asking those questions from the rear-view might have been just as distracting as the other way around.

As promised, Castle filled them in during the drive with every detail of the cover story he had so very artfully crafted for Kate's benefit. Still, though the information was necessary, Kevin seemed to give only the bare minimum attention to Castle's account. Far from being enthralled, Castle thought he seemed almost morose and somewhat distant.

Well, if need be Castle had a remedy for that...

He let the conversation drop, turning around in his seat to watch the other man. Beside him Javier frowned, already wary of the sudden quiet, but Kevin seemed not to notice.

It was only once Kevin finally looked up in concern that Castle broke his silence.

"What do you call a _gelamcaedus_ with a badge?" he asked the Grimm—which, honestly, felt like the set up for a joke all on it's own.

Kevin only stared back at him blankly, but Javier let out a noise that was almost _pained_.

"Come on, Castle, don't..."

"An investi-gator."

There was a moment of delay—as if he had been forced to mentally double-check Castle's words to confirm their content—before Kevin let out an amused and somewhat baffled snort.

"Castle, I swear..." Javier warned.

"Did you hear about the _ziegevolk_ that made a name for himself in the Games?" Castle asked, grinning.

While Kevin met him with one of the most confused expressions he had ever seen on the man's face, Javier took his eyes off the road just long enough to shoot him a sharp glare. Castle pretended not to notice either one.

"He had to beat the ladies off with a stick," Castle said.

Javier huffed an almost disgusted grunt, and Castle wasn't looking, but he suspected the detective would be mustering a perfectly manly-looking pout. His evidence was the faint smile that flickered across Kevin's face as he cast a glance at the rear-view—Castle doubted he actually understood any of the jokes, but seeing his partner get wound up over them was a hard thing not to smile at.

Which had _entirely_ been Castle's point.

"You realize these are our version of ethnic jokes, right?" Javier asked, casting a quick glance back at his partner.

And Kevin very clearly hadn't, because the question wiped the smile from his face rather abruptly and he looked away.

The sudden silence that fell in on them was all but physically painful. Though the other man was staring straight ahead, one could almost imagine it was still enough for Javier to hear rather than see the _glare_ Castle was sending his way. He might have said something, but judging from the faint slump to the detective's shoulders it was obvious he already felt a little guilty for breaking his partner's good mood.

And if there was one thing Castle had learned in his years of working with the two men, it was that there was just no beating Javier's capacity for self-flagellation where Kevin was concerned...

Damn, but he could be stubborn, though—they made it a couple blocks more before Javier finally gave in. He released a put-upon sigh.

"Two _fuchsbau_ and a _kehrseite_ are playing poker," Javier said, his words muttered and so bland they were nearly monotone, the only real feeling in the brief, irritated glance he threw Castle's way. "The first _fuchsbau_ throws down a straight flush, declaring himself the winner. The second _fuchsbau_ calls him out as a dirty cheat. The _kehrseite_ looks confused and asks how he can tell. And the second _fuchsbau_ says: 'Those aren't the cards I dealt him!'"

Though to have delivered it so easily, Castle had to imagine it was one Javier had heard—possibly even told—several times before.

Castle let out a wounded noise, clutching his chest dramatically.

"_Touche_, detective," he said, "that one hit me where I live."

Javier just let out a snort, shaking his head, but Castle watched the earlier distress ease out of his expression when he glanced back and saw Kevin smiling.

(And Javier liked to claim he knew how bad he had it for his partner, but Castle was sure he didn't know the half of it.)

Castle grinned.

"Have you hear the one about the Grimm that–"

"_Castle_."

And Castle was smart enough to recognize that, this time, Javier's warning was one-hundred percent real.

"Yeah," Castle admitted quietly with a wince, offering Kevin an abashed glance. "That one's probably a bit too soon..."

For a while, it seemed as if his overstepping might have brought the conversation to a halt, but the lull didn't last for long.

"Can I see it?" Kevin asked quietly, after a moment.

The question was somewhat lacking for context, and it took Castle a moment to understand.

"See–" Realizing, he was suddenly at a loss for words. "Oh."

"I mean, well, I've never seen a _fuchsbau_ before," Kevin said, all earnest and awkward and actually rather pathetic in a way Castle simply could not previously have imagined a Grimm capable. "You'd be my first."

Castle opened his mouth but a faint noise from the man's partner—almost like a cough—seemed to threaten some kind of reprisal should he make the obvious joke there, so it took him longer than it otherwise might have to reply.

Castle generally considered himself both adventurous and daring—he could even recall Kate rolling her eyes once or twice upon saying so out loud. The point is, he wasn't stuffy or stiff, or set in his ways, or hung up on tradition the way many _wesen_ tended to be. But still, there were taboos that he had been raised to hold sacred. Barring the _Vertrautheiten _and other formalized greetings you really didn't just _woge_ in front of anyone who asked, especially if they weren't _wesen_.

And you definitely didn't want to be seen showing yourself off by a _Grimm_.

It was strange enough being asked by a friend that he had, in the past, expended a not-inconsiderable amount of time and effort hiding the truth from. That this friend was also a Grimm only made the whole thing impossibly more strange—nay, make that _disarmingly bizarre_. Because, alright, sure it was _Kevin_ they were talking about—he wasn't about to let himself forget that for a moment—but it was still enough to move even Castle to momentary pause.

In the end, of course, it was the expression of simple, vulnerable _curiosity_ on Kevin's face and that won through his doubts.

Castle turned around fully in his seat to face Kevin, raising his eyebrows one last time as if to make certain Kevin was ready. Kevin's own hesitation was brief, but he gave a small nod. And if he startled visibly as Castle shifted into his _woge_, at the very least he could be given credit for moving very quickly past it. The Grimm's eyes seemed to wander over Castle's face for a moment before meeting his gaze–

Though, Castle noted with palpable discomfort, those eyes certainly made it difficult to really know for sure.

"I bet Alexis is stunning," Kevin said finally, ticking a faint smile.

And _that_ was Kevin Ryan, alright—Castle couldn't help himself smiling back. The exchange broke through the writer's momentary trepidation. Castle found his usual boldness returning enough for him to study Kevin right back, shamelessly staring into his eyes.

Familiar goof or not, the sight was every bit as disturbing as Castle had always imagined it would be.

"Man, that is just too weird," Castle said finally, returning to his human face with a shudder.

"What's weird?" Kevin asked, that openly wondering expression crumpled into a frown of confusion.

It took Castle a few seconds to realize Kevin was utterly serious.

"You mean you don't know?" Castle asked. He threw a glance sideways just in time to see Javier wince. "You haven't told him?"

"I was honestly hoping Burkhardt told him," Javier muttered unhappily.

"Tell me _what_?" Kevin insisted, and though his face was reasonably composed his voice held an edge that was close to panic.

Beside him, Castle heard Javier let out a slow sigh.

"Your eyes, Kev," Javier told him slowly. "It's how we know what you are."

"My eyes?" Kevin asked, clearly struggling to understand. "I don't–"

"They look...different to us when we're _woged_," Javier admitted gently.

"Different...how, exactly?" Kevin asked.

The way he hesitated, as if weighting the question, Castle had to wonder whether Kevin honestly wanted to know the answer.

Javier gave his partner a long, considering look in the mirror, frowning, Castle would guess, as he tried to recall it.

"It's...kind of hard to describe," Javier said finally—to Kevin's swift and vocal disappointment.

"Come on, Javi," Kevin pleaded tiredly. "I know you guys want to protect me or whatever, and I understand that, but I need to know. I'd like to think I'm past the point where I'm actually going to _break_ or something if you tell me."

"Well, to be completely fair, Javi's not wrong," Castle said. "I mean, it _is_ kind of difficult to put into words. Though if I may..."

Taking a moment to summon up the image, Castle framed it thusly:

"It's sort of like looking out of a window at night," he said. "We can see ourselves—our 'true' selves, you'd probably say—reflected on the glass. Only, behind that glass..."

Castle paused thoughtfully.

"Well...imagine being pinned down under the searching gaze of an unspeakably hostile void," Castle said slowly. Though with another thought he corrected himself. "Or perhaps more like...facing judgment from a nameless, persecuting force reaching out from beyond primal darkness. Or maybe–"

"That's enough, Castle," Javier interrupted sharply. "I think it gets it."

Looking at Kevin, Castle thought he looked unsettled by the idea. And perhaps a little pale.

"Hey, look," Castle said pleadingly, catching the detective's attention, "it's not that bad, alright? I mean, you freaked out at first when you saw us, but you're getting used to it. _We'll_ get used to it."

Kevin looked back at him, but from his oh-so-dubious expression he seemed significantly less than convinced.

"We're all exactly the same people we were before all of this came to light," Castle continued insistently, keeping his tone light. "We just know more about each other than we did—in the long run that has to be a good thing, right?"

And Castle's optimism seemed to win him over briefly, but the faint smile Kevin managed was short lived.

"Maybe I know more about what you guys are," Kevin said quietly. "Myself I still have questions about..."

"Well... _I _could try help with that," Castle said.

Javier turned and cast him a suspicious look, but still Castle couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. He probably should have tried harder.

"What do you mean?" Kevin asked.

"Well," Castle began slowly, "while you and Javi were gone, I had a talk with Jenny..."

And Javier looked as if he were about to make some objection, but Castle cut him off abruptly.

"No, let me rephrase that: I _needed_ to talk to Jenny," Castle said pointedly, returning his attention to Kevin as he pushed onward. "This whole thing was just so strange—and _Javier_ apparently knew about it, but for me it came out of nowhere—so I _had_ to ask."

Beside him, Javier was shaking his head, but he more than likely knew it was a lost battle anyway—even Castle was rarely an equal opponent to his own curiosity.

"Anyway, she told me about the work she did looking into your family," Castle said, "and I even convinced her to give me what she had, but she made me promise not to go looking through it without asking you first—and I haven't, I swear on my life, but the restraint is absolutely _killing_ me."

Kevin looked at him uncertainly, neatly caught, Castle speculated, between his own curiosity and his recently-acquired existential dread.

"I don't know, Castle..."

"Yes you do," Castle said with confidence. "You know you'll feel better once you know—no matter what you find out—than you will if you leave yourself wondering what's even there to know."

Which, for just a moment, seemed to only confuse Kevin further, at least until his partner chimed in.

"You know, I hate to admit it," Javier said slowly, almost wincing as he did, "but I think he's actually got your number there, bro."

Kevin looked carefully between them, but he seemed to fail at finding any argument he thought would work.

"Alright," Kevin conceded finally, and Castle was happy to detect more than mere overwhelmed resignation in his voice.

"Excellent!" Castle exclaimed clapping his hands together. He only barely restrained himself from rubbing them together gleefully. "So. My place, then. Saturday night. Around seven o'clock–"

"Seven?" Javier asked, skeptically.

"Dinner," Castle answered brightly, offering Javier a broad grin. "And _you're_ not invited."

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter was going to be longer, but I've decided to split it (yet again) in order to have something to post sooner.

Would Nick have told Kevin what Grimms looked like to _wesen_? Realistically, the answer is probably yes. But it couldn't have possibly been as fun as letting Castle say it. XD

Also, for the record, I'm not a big fan of ethnic jokes, but it's damned near impossible to escape them, and trying to think a few up for _wesen_ was fun. And if anyone cares, Castle's interrupted Grimm joke is:

_"Did you hear about the Grimm who hacked his target's phone?" _

_"No."_

_"He was aiming for his head."_


End file.
